


Anaan Esaam Qun

by Meelah



Series: 15 prompts [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5192189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meelah/pseuds/Meelah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone breaks, eventually. For Hissrad it takes almost a decade on Seheron.</p><p>Prompt 12: “People cry, not because they’re weak. It’s because they’ve been strong for too long.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anaan Esaam Qun

**Author's Note:**

> > Years go by and I'm here still waiting withering where some snowman was  
> Mirror mirror where's the crystal palace  
> But I only can see myself  
> Skating around the truth who I am  
> But I know dad the ice is getting thin
> 
> _\- Tori Amos, "Winter"_

When they find him, Hissrad is on his knees, covered in blood.

Gatt raises his hand as a sign to the medic behind him to stop. This is a sight they have seen too many times before, and he had prayed he would never see it happen to Hissrad. Gatt surveys the scene but it's quiet now, save for the flies that are buzzing around the fresh corpses. The smell is already hanging heavy in the air, aided by the sun above them.

"Hissrad." Gatt says, quietly.

If he's still there, somewhere, Gatt might be able to bring him back. The big man doesn't reply, but his shoulders twitch slightly and Gatt breathes out slowly.

"Listen to my voice, Hissrad." Gatt says. "I will help you, I will get you out of here."

He puts all he can into those few words because he knows Hissrad will be able to tell if he doesn't believe them himself. Gatt loves the Qun and he _believes_ , but it's different for him, not being born into it— for him it's a choice, a choice he makes every day.

And he makes the choice again, right here, right now.

"Close your eyes," Gatt says in a calm voice, and he takes a step closer. "Hissrad. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun."

This time Hissrad's whole body shakes, his hands curling into fists and Gatt freezes in place. If Hissrad goes berserk right now, if Gatt has miscalculated— he's dead, and the medic too. He's seen Hissrad talk people away of from a ledge like this and he's always been able to do more with his words in few minutes than many less skilled Ben-Hassrath agents with gamek and a week, Gatt just isn’t sure if he can do the same. He breathes deeply, forcing his heartbeat to steady.

"Back. Off." Hissrad growls then, his voice so low it's barely audible. "Not. Safe."

Gatt doesn't move, thinking furiously. Hissrad _is_ there, but is he salvageable? His heart sinks when he thinks about Vasaad's body they found at the gate, one arrow clean through the throat. If only Vasaad was here now, he'd be able to— but of course, Vasaad being dead is one of the reasons Hissrad is finally cracking.

"Hissrad." Gatt says again and his training is paying off, his voice doesn't tremble. "Please." He's not supposed to say that, but Gatt goes ignores his teachings and goes with his instinct. "They're all dead, Hissrad. You eliminated the threat."

"No." Hissrad laughs and the sound is so wrong it makes Gatt's stomach turn. " _I_ am the threat now. Call the re-educators, I'm not... I'm not _safe_."

"Let us treat your wounds first, at least." Gatt says quietly “Let’s think about it."

Hissrad doesn't move or say anything for a good minute, so Gatt moves, walking slowly around him to see him from the front. A lot of the blood is his, but not all of it. There are couple of deeper gashes that have gone even through the vitaar but most them are superficial, and bloody knuckles probably have some broken bones. Hissrad watches as Gatt kneels in front of him, surveying the damage.

"I'll call the medic over," Gatt says after few moments "Okay? He'll fix you right up."

Hissrad doesn’t move, so Gatt waves at the medic — there’s two of them now, and the rest of the agents in the search party have all gathered to watch. Gatt can see them nervously readying their weapons and he doesn’t blame them— no one wants to face Hissrad gone crazy. Gatt gives them a signal to stay back.

The medics make their way cautiously to Hissrad and Gatt, and Hissrad doesn’t resist as they start to examine him. The blood is wiped away and big wounds stitched, and throughout Hissrad makes no sound, eyes staring somewhere above Gatt’s head.

As the medics work, the rest of the the team start to catalog the carnage around them. Tal-Vashoth company had been large, and now there is not a single one alive. They haven’t just been killed — they have been _destroyed_ , in several cases it was clear that death hadn’t stopped Hissrad, limbs lay detached from bodies, bellies sliced open and entrails pulled out. Gatt is sitting on a rock near Hissrad, watching, and he knows that while he’s seen Hissrad angry before this is different.

“They will ask about why you didn’t request permission for this attack,” Gatt says quietly.

Hissrad’s wounds have been treated, but he’s still sitting on the ground on his knees, waiting. His posture has changed, and he seems calmer now.

“It was within my rights to launch an investigation,” Hissrad says and Gatt admires him, for even now he is able twist the truth to how it suits him. “I had reason to suspect that this company was behind the recent i-incidents—“ and Hissrad’s voice cracks and he stops, fingers twitching again.

Gatt nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He says. “I’ll support you.”

Hissrad lifts his hands and presses them on his face, and Gatt wants to stop him, pull his hands away and scream to wake him up.

“I need… to be fixed.” Hissrad murmurs, voice muffled behind his hands. “Gatt, you better put me in chains because until you do, you can’t let me lose where there are civilians.”

Gatt hates those words, hates what they mean. “Yeah,” he says anyway, because it’s what Hissrad wants. “We will. We’ll fix you up.”

When they press the manacles around Hissrad’s thick wrists Gatt wants to look away but he doesn’t. Hissrad has supported him for years, been with him every step of the way, so Gatt follows Hissrad now as he’s being taken away, led by two Sten. Follows him all the way to the garrison and makes sure Hissrad is assigned a large comfortable cell while the investigation to his current mental state starts.

Gatt won’t mince his words when they ask him about Hissrad’s motivations.

“He killed those Tal-Vashoth who killed those children, and he broke himself doing it!” Gatt hisses. “He thinks it’s his fault, that he failed to live up to the demands of the Qun, but we all know that isn’t really true, is it?”

They record his words like they always do, but Gatt doesn’t care. He goes to sit by Hissrad’s cell and slowly as the days go by he finds his peace with Qun again. Qun takes care of it’s own, and nothing is wasted — Gatt can tell that they’re debating long and hard about Hissrad’s fate.

What makes Hissrad so unique and such a valuable tool, is his mind. Even after almost having been destroyed by the pressure and a decade on Seheron, his mind is as sharp as it’s always been. Gatt requests, and is allowed to sit in on some of the interrogations. Hissrad sits with his palms flat against the smooth surface of the table as they open his mind like an onion, peeling away on layers of pain and anger. Everything that he is, laid on the open and examined and then carefully put back together again. It is much easier to break things than fix them and Gatt admires the skill of the interrogator not to change who Hissrad is but to preserve him as the perfect weapon.

But Gatt also hates her for leaving the pain that she could have so easily soothed, and leaving memories of the fallen comrades and lovers as raw as they ever were. Yet Hissrad seems to be breathing easier afterwards, even when they tell him about his new assignment.

  


Hissrad chooses himself a new name, and as he's standing on the deck of the ship he tastes it in his mouth, tries it on for size like new armour. He’s shaved his scalp in the morning of the trip and let the hair fall away with his old name and wind feels strange against his naked skull.

With Seheron disappearing into the horizon, The Iron Bull doesn't look back.

**Author's Note:**

> _Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun. = There's nothing to struggle against. Victory is in the Qun._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> My headcanon for Hissrad is [this.](http://januariat.tumblr.com/post/129892513858/but-consider-this-a-young-hissrad-fresh-out-of)


End file.
